Bunny Ears
by Pheonix-17
Summary: Detention, bunny ears and fun, fun, fun!!!!!!!!


Fair Warning: This is slash fic (m/m). Nothing too serious but if you don't like that sort if thing then I'd get out of here now. Rating: I dunno, I'm awful at ratings. PG-13 for mild sexual stuff and m/m relationships. Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me unfortunately. They belong to J. K. Rowling (the author of the Harry Potter books, in case you didn't know). Authors Note: This is my first attempt at slash fic writing. Don't flame me please!!! I know this has been done before, Just humour me all right. This one is dedicated to my sister Beth, because she didn't freak out when I told her I was writing slash fic, indeed, she asked to read it and Vicky, who's probably the only one of my friends who will read this without thinking that I have lost it. Random Point: If Shirley is reading this then remember honey, Tony and Ben forever!! @@@@@@@@@@@@@ More trophy cleaning. McGonagall really had it in for him this time. Personally he couldn't see what all the fuss was about. It's not like the bunny ears had been permanent. Besides, he'd thought Potter had looked quite cute. Damn, he swore. He'd resolved not to think about that. Thoughts like that led to all sorts of unpleasant places. He set his head down and polished the cup he was working on as though his life depended on it. His sanity certainly did. He viewed it as rubbing Potter out of his mind.  
  
He'd got it down to just the eyes in his mind, and he knew they wouldn't go. They were always there. Vivid green eyes that followed him reprimanded him and laughed with him. It was as if he had a fucking guardian angel. It's not like he wanted Potter as a guardian angel. Anyone would be better than him.  
  
The door to the trophy room swung open with a groan and who should walk in but Potter himself, closely followed by Filch who was cradling Mrs Norris in his arms. He tried to hide a smile, ha. Who would have thought it? Potter in trouble as well. He thought to hide his smile before Filch saw it. Too late. "What's the matter Malfoy? Think there's something funny about detention do you? If I had my way, you'd never smile in detention again. You'd be too busy having your thumbs wrenched out of their sockets, or hanging by your toes from the ceiling." Filch trailed off as he swung the heavy door shut behind him. Draco glared at Potter's back as he made his way to a cabinet on the opposite wall. Why did Potter have to have his detention tonight? Just when he was having trouble getting him out of his head. This was going to be a long two hours.  
  
Harry could feel Malfoy's eyes boring holes in his back as he picked up a heavy shield and sat down, leaning against the heavy mahogany cabinet to begin polishing. It was a pity that wands were forbidden in the trophy room. Harry knew that this would defeat the point of the detention, but right now, there was nothing he wanted more than to get out of that room and as far away from Malfoy as possible. Even if it did involve being in detention for the rest of term. Harry wouldn't have minded so much if what he was feeling stayed tucked away at the back of his mind. A sort of unspoken taboo. But it refused to behave. Sometimes it disappeared almost altogether, a shadow, lurking somewhere in the depths of his memory along with green flashes of light, scrams and evil laughs. Occasionally, just occasionally, however, it would multiply into a stampede that cascaded through his brain, rendering him unable to think or speak about anything else. These were the times where he retreated into himself, clamping his lips together and building a barrier against the outside world, for fear of letting this thing inside him loose. Despite all these efforts, there was one thing that gave him away. It seemed insignificant by itself, but, in context, it was sure-fire proof of what he was feeling. It was his skin. It was giving him away now. His arms were covered with goose pimples, his flesh taut and straining. Each hair was standing straight up from his arm. Each seemed to be reaching out, grasping for the blonde on the other side if the room. Harry grasped his lower lip between his teeth and bit down, the coppery taste of blood, beating back the deluge of emotions. He tucked his head down and concentrated on his work, settling for just occasionally, sly glances across the room.  
  
Malfoy pushed a strand of normally well-groomed hair back off his face. His vigorous polishing had displaced it. He could see Potter glancing at him from across the room and polished harder, almost sending his muscles into spasms. He had to stop, panting. He wiped his brow on his sleeves and leaned his head against the cabinet. He was hot and sweaty and having Potter there really didn't help. He could feel the swat pooling in the small of his back. He caught the look Potter gave him from across the room and their eye's locked. The heat in those vivid green eyes made him gasp and stare, transfixed, at the young man with the scar who still held a rag in one hand and a bottle of polish in the other.  
  
Harry gazed at Draco, slowly absorbing the site before him. Malfoy was flushed, sweaty, dishevelled and somehow still very appealing. His jaw was slack and his bottom lip pouted slightly. Harry somehow knew what Malfoy would taste like. Like cool mint and pine. Sweat ran down Harry's face. Damn, it had been a mistake thinking that. The rag and polish fell to the floor, unheeded. That thought had taken over his body. He wanted nothing more than to see if he was right. Harry could tell that Draco was thinking along the same lines. It was something to do with the way he stared at Harry, eyes flicking from Harry's eyes to his mouth, before flicking his tongue out to moisten his own lips. Harry's mind growled at him. This is wrong. He's a Slytherin, your enemy, and to cap it all, he's a HE. Think about Cho. Pretty, intelligent, female. Harry muttered something under his breath about his brain being homophobic and pushed himself to his feet. Even though his body was screaming to him to cross the room to where Malfoy was still watching him, his mind made him turn to the door and step out into the corridor, pulling the heavy door shut behind him. Harry then crossed the passage to lean his head on the cool stonewall.  
  
Malfoy watched Harry leave the room and cursed at the pain that suddenly tore through his chest. For one moment there he'd thought that Harry was going to cross the invisible barrier between them and join him on his side of the room. How stupid he'd been. He should have known the great Potter wouldn't want anything to do with him. Malfoy reached for the rag to resume his detention duties and then stood, resolute. He was going after the one thing in his life worth chasing. He wouldn't let Potter get away without telling him how he felt.  
  
He found Potter right outside the door, shoulders sagging, head against the wall, silvery tears falling down his face. Draco stopped, frozen by the door. Damn, he looked good, even when he cried. Malfoy reached out and laid his hand gently on Harry's shoulder. Harry jerked in surprise and spun to face him, wiping tears from his face. The young Slytherin hung his head briefly and when he looked up and locked eyes with Harry again, both of them had eyes alight with want, no, need. Malfoy opened his mouth to speak but Potter, guessing his intentions, lifted one trembling finger and pressing it to the fair man's lips. Malfoy worked hard to contain a groan as the finger, rough from work, brushed the sensitive skin on his lips. He closed his eyes and let his tongue explore the finger that prevented him from speaking. Suddenly the pair jumped apart as they heard heavy footsteps coming their way. The continued staring at each other, lost in each other's eyes, as Filch rounded the corner. "Another week in detention for trying to avoid punishment!" the bad-tempered caretaker snapped. Draco and Harry smiled at each other and their hands brushed as they returned to the trophy room. These detentions were going to be fun!!! 


End file.
